Secrets of Secrets
by becs1
Summary: Just read it. Oh, you want a summery? Picky, picky. OK, here goes: Pete discovers Clark's abilities. And a plot twist! Woo! My first fic, so PLEASE REVIEW!!!!
1. Discovered

[A/N: I'm really excited 'cause I finally got around to registering and this is my first fic!! I already have the first four chapters, but I want feedback first things first. This is so cool!!!  
  
Right. Anyway, I got the plot idea from something I read about cannon, that said Pete Ross actually knew Clark's secret in Smallivlle, just never told him. I thought that sounded cool.  
  
Please review!!! Begging on my hands and knees here!!!!!!!!]  
  
  
  
Secrets of Secrets  
  
1. Discovered  
  
:Clip clop: clicks sneaker soles that lead to a new discovery.  
  
Pete Ross was grinning broadly. He usually was, but this time it was because he has finished his article for "The Torch" and scored a date with The Jenny Baskins. Wow. Women do dig me, he thought.  
  
As he rounded the corner to the football stadium, he wondered which he should tell Clark first. His best friend had been hanging around waiting for him after he finished his own article. Pete wondered how Clark could be playing football with himself, and was planning on watching him silently to get some material for the snarking that would soon inevitably ensue on Clark's behalf. Poor, clumsy Clarkie, always the butt of his friends' jokes.  
  
All of a sudden, Pete went numb. He saw the grass, then felt his feet stop and his jaw drop. He blinked a couple of times, but his vocal chords were shot. Regular old Clark was there, standing in the field, but then he reared his arm back and tossed the football. It flew over the first field goal, then the second, then traveled another field's worth. A blinding grin crossed Kent's face, and then he was gone. Pete struggled to follow the blue and red blur across the field, which soon reformed as Clark, who neatly caught the speeding ball in one hand. He then repeated the entire sequence: the impossible throw, the blurry run, the perfect catch. Pete's sights were confirmed. He wondered if those sneaky lunch ladies didn't put some of their brandy in his milk today.  
  
Pete turned and ran as fast as he could out of the stadium, and away from Clark. He reached the truck, fumbled with his keys, hopped in, and sped away. Clark emerged just in time to see the vehicle barreling out of the parking lot.  
  
"Pete!" he called. He recognized his friend's truck. "Aren't you forgetting something?" Another extremely white smile.  
  
Pete stepped on the brake and thought. He was freaked out by his friend, he really was. But even if Clark was a completely different person than he had thought, his friend was his friend, and he still had feelings. I think. Pete backed up and popped open the cab's passenger door.  
  
Clark climbed in hesitantly and buckled his seatbelt. Pete blushed at the fact that he was unstrapped. His friend was always such a straight arrow.  
  
The boys rode home in silence. Pete was usually the chatterbox, mostly because he picked on Clark. But now they did not speak. Clark contemplated what was wrong. Pete didn't finish his article? The date with Jenny Baskins wasn't happening? As usual, Clark speculated how, somehow, it could be his fault. The thought that maybe, just maybe, Pete had seen him playing football flashed through his mind. His father's words blared in his head: You don't have to stop using your gifts completely, although a little caution would be appreciated. Did Pete know? He shook off the thought; it had come often before and was never confirmed as the truth. Plus, Pete would have said something by now.  
  
On the other side of the truck, Pete was dying to bring up what he had just seen Clark do. He wondered why his usually perceptive friend hadn't yet noticed him bursting at the seams. Oh, he hoped Clark wasn't psychic as well!  
  
It all made sense now. The many lives Clark had saved. The villains he had somehow held off and/or destroyed. How he always made it to school before the bus when he missed it. How he beat up that kid in first grade. It had something to do with these abilities. But where did they come from? Were his parents like him? Of course not, Pete confirmed, Clark's adopted. But did they know anything at all?  
  
He also wondered if he should tell Clark that he knows. Would Clark and his family treat their friend differently if they shared this secret? They obviously didn't want anyone else to know. Pete could logically foresee the consequences: lab coats and charts. Not a great image when it involves your best friend.  
  
It was the meteor rocks. Had to be. It was the explanation for Tina Greer, Greg Arkin, Jodie Melville, and Shawn Kelvin, and Clark had been exposed to all of them. Why couldn't that be the logical explanation for his friend?  
  
The black boy snickered suddenly. And to think I once said that if he were any slower he'd be extinct. He's probably faster than the fucking speed of sound! Clark glanced over at the random noise from the other side of the car. "Penny for your thoughts?" he ventured.  
  
"Oh, nothing. I, um, got that date with Jenny and I was, well, thinking about the look on that jock's face when I'm with his girl and, er, yeah. Funny, huh?" The words stumbled quickly out of Pete's mouth.  
  
Clark raised an eyebrow. "If you say so." Then back into silence.  
  
As the two pull up to the Kent Farm, Pete lets Clark out at the end of the long driveway. Clark shrugs and exits, politely thanking Pete for the ride. The driver starts to leave, but keeps and eye on his friend in the rearview mirror. Clark looks around suspiciously, and suddenly becomes a blur again as he speeds toward the yellow house. Pete smiles to himself, and drives off. 


	2. Sought

[A/N: Wow! I feel so loved, you guys!! Shout-outs to From Here, Frances Hollland, Sara, and most definetly ScoobyGal55. I was wondering if anyone picked out my name on the anonymous reviews!  
  
This chapter is basically a filler, and not my favorite. It's reeeeeally short, and that's why I'm posting it so soon after the first chapter.  
  
Oh, and my little freak-of-the-week? Don't worry, he's basically in there to mock the show and to give Pete a taste of Clark's weekly duties. Feel free to laugh. He'll be gone soon :heh heh heh...: OK...  
  
As LaCasta says, "It's fun to create supervillans!"  
  
Oh, and I forgot the disclaimer. Oops. I don't own 'em. Good? OK! Let's get the show on the road then!!]  
  
2. Sought  
  
:Bang: sounds the door as it opens a new can of worms for two secretive friends.  
  
Chloe bursts into the Torch office. Clark glances up quickly. Almost too quickly. Pete eyes him, and then turns his attention towards the girl.  
  
"What?" the boys ask in unison.  
  
"You know the attacks where everyone has been turned to stone? I found Brett Summers talking to a rock after school. You think he's been exposed to the meteor?"  
  
Clark and Pete look at each other and sigh. Chloe continues. "I was hoping you guys could investigate with Brett. You're two friendly boys. He might open up to you."  
  
"I'll go. You know I've got a knack for finding meteor rocks," volunteers Clark. Chloe isn't surprised, he always finds a way to help. Pete squints in suspicion.  
  
"I'll come with. You might need help," Pete offers. Silently he adds, Yeah, just like when I help you pick up cars and beat the bus to school.  
  
Since his discovery, Pete had ceased to think about something other than Clark. Recently, the Ross boy had sneaked into the Kent home and watched Clark do the dishes. He didn't have to crouch too long. In precisely ten seconds, Clark had cleared the table, scrubbed every dish with a sponge, then with a towel, and had put each plate and bowl away in the cabinets. It wasn't Clark, really, more like that blur. Then, Pete had "stopped by to make sure Clark got to school on time." He watched intently as Jonathan Kent prompted his son to lift a car out of a puddle, which Clark did happily and easily. Then, the shorter boy came to the Fortress of Solitude for "algebra assistance" and had seen Clark retrieve Martha's tennis bracelet from a running wood chipper. Pete contemplated these amazing events more and more. How had he done those things? Why couldn't he trust me? And where were those damn meteor rocks? His sanity depended on it.  
  
Back at the Torch, Clark quickly refuses Pete's assistance. "Let me go alone, buddy. It might be dangerous."  
  
Pete snorts at the comment. "Then why are you going?" Lately, Pete had been trying to get Clark to admit his secret without seeming like he was interested. This time, he brings up a legitimate point.  
  
Clark fumbles with his answer. "Um, well, Brett might get suspicious if we both showed up to question him." Not as suspicious as I am, I guarantee it, thinks Pete.  
  
"I'm coming this time. You've gone alone before and it's not fair that you're life has all the action." Pete grins as if he's joking, though he is quite serious.  
  
"N-no," stutters Clark. "You can't. Please don't."  
  
"Okay, if you say so" is all Pete can force out. If this acting thing goes on much longer, he's going to lose it. How has Clark done it so long? Well, come to think of it, he hasn't been that careful... He sticks his hands 


	3. Hidden

[A/N: People are still reading! I feel so special. Glad to know Pete fans are out there (Badger Lord, From Here, me, etc.)!!  
  
OK, on this one I need your help. I told you that I have up to Chapter 4 written, but I might change it. I started this story with the intrest of having Pete just know without Clark knowing that he knows (does that make sense?), but I soon realized that once Pete gets past the fact that his friend's a superhero (like he warmed up to the fact that his girlfriend was a fat-sucking vampire), there is pretty much no plot and my story fades into the oblivion of boring, unfinished fics posted on this website. Not gon' happen. But I'm sure I can dig something out, if I had to.  
  
So here's the question: should Clark find out that Pete found out? Should I have a whole chapter dedicated to ClarkAngst about the meteors? Should Pete share a special secret with his best friend (screw Lex- no, not literally!!), or should I be forced to write witty sarcastic comments (not one of my fortes) for Chloe?? The answers to these questions depend on you, or I'm dead in the water. Please???  
  
Done now. Read please.]  
  
  
  
3. Hidden  
  
:Ding dong: goes the friendly doorbell, masking the puzzles impossible to solve.  
  
Within seconds, Clark greeted his visitor. "Pete! What are you doing here? I was just about to see Brett, and I thought you weren't coming." The tall boy shifted nervously from foot to foot. The other grinned to himself. It seemed he, Pete Ross, was making the strongest teen in the world uneasy.  
  
[What's Pete doing here? We had this discussion,] Clark reassured himself. Lately, his friend had been acting strangely and showing up at the oddest times. [Mostly, come to think about it, when I've just used a gift. Is he on to me?] Clark shook off the thought for the moment, placing it in the back of his mind as he turned his attention back to the other boy.  
  
"Oh, I forgot about that," lied Pete through his teeth. "Do you have today's history notes?"  
  
"Pete, I've gotta go. Football practice should be ending soon. Or did you forget since you quit the team?" As soon as he said it, good-natured Clark regretted bringing up the issue, but he needed a distraction from his suspicions.  
  
Pete held up his hands to surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry about it, Clark- man. I'll leave now." He turned on his heel and drove away, but stopped his truck as he turned a corner. The blue and red blur appeared in his rearview mirror.  
  
Someone passing by might have thought a woman had screeched, but it was just Pete's truck. He knew he had to go as fast as possible if he were to keep up with Clark.  
  
Pete panted as he jogged toward the bleachers. [Clark is so lucky, never getting tired like that.] The blur reformed in his now-familiar way as he approached some of the football team. Pete watched his friend slap the boys on the back in greeting, then nonchalantly separate Brett from the others. He then tailed the pair to an alley off the side of the school.  
  
Clark glanced over his shoulder before he began. He sensed movement where Pete had ducked out of view. The hiding boy saw Clark squint at the barrier in deep concentration, then shake his head.  
  
"Pete, if you're there," he called, "I suggest you leave. Now." Pete wondered how Clark knew he was there. Could he see him? [All this supernatural stuff with Clark is making me paranoid. No one can see through walls.]  
  
[But a couple weeks ago, no one could bend toilet seats with their pinkie either,] that voice in his head nagged.  
  
[Shut up. Just shut up.] That seemed to work.  
  
The familiar baritone of Clark's voice slapped Pete out of his reverie. "What's happened to you, Brett?" he was asking. "Have you been affected by the meteors?"  
  
Brett snickered. "Just affected? I think not. More like saved." His fingertips brushed a dumpster he was standing next to. It, and all of it's contents, turned to stone. "It's a good thing I took that tumble into Smallville Quarry. Helps me take care of people who won't stop nosing in my business."  
  
Clark just smiled at the other boy. He drew back his arm, and sunk it deep into the solid rock. Brett's jaw dropped, much like Pete crouched behind the wall. "I'd like to see you try," said Clark, concluding his demonstration.  
  
Pete felt a sudden flush of anger. If Clark was so willing to show an evil jock what he was capable of, how hard was it to tell his best friend?  
  
"Now, Clark, you seem to be a rational guy." Brett sounded a bit shaken, but calm. "There's no need for drastic action." Seemingly out of comfort, he reached out and placed a steady hand on Clark's steel shoulder. Clark stood, solid and pleased it seemed, of the painful expression on the other's face.  
  
Pete was puzzled, but then understood. Brett couldn't use his freakish meteor power on Clark because of his strange invulnerability. Clark knew it. Pete knew it. Brett did not.  
  
"What is it about you, Kent?" yelled Brett, who sounded frustrated. He took it out on Clark's shoulder, which he punched. Hard.  
  
"DAMMIT!!!" yelled the villain, who gripped his hand in pain. Unfazed by the action, Clark swung Brett into the alley like a rag doll. Pete dodged the flying body as he reached for his cell phone. He dialed 911 and left Clark to his explaining.  
  
But Pete didn't go home. He went to the Fortress of Solitude, knowing that this was the ultimate possibility to look around for any clues about Clark. The Kents were away at an adult-only family reunion, and Clark was "helping" Brett ([More like kicking his ass,] thought Pete), which would take a while, if Pete was any judge.  
  
---------------------------------  
  
Couch, window, manure. Pete had seen it all before. It must be hidden somewhere safer than where Pete was almost every day. He didn't know what 'it' was, but it had to be some kind of answer. And like a sign from the heavens, it came to him. The light Clark had left on in his room shone out of the window and onto the rusted doors of the storm cellar. He hadn't remembered ever being there. [Even that time in fifth grade, when we were sleeping in the barn. There was a storm and Chloe said it would be a good idea to sleep in the storm cellar instead. We all agreed, but Mr. Kent refused really quickly.] It seemed like a good place to look. 


	4. Found

[A/N: Waazzzzup! I'm back, after my internet got working again. All these stupid modems are so temperamental!  
  
I'm uploading it, not only because I'm trying to avoid work, but because this story has been buried in, like, page 4 of the updates. Because of that, I haven't gotten any new reviews in two days, and that worries me. Am I expecting too much?  
  
Anyway, I really like the reviews I got. Webgirl gave me a great idea- to have Pete tell Chloe about Clark before he tells Clark himself- but I already had this chapter written (the last of the pre-typed! Egad!) and it sets up the plot for the next one. I'll see if I can get Petey out of this sticky situation while sticking to the storyline in my head, but it's hard to compete with a super-powered alien on these types of things. I can only do so much! The characters are running this story!!  
  
Besides, Pete running over and dragging Chloe into this whole thing would seem a bit out of character. By no means has the show gone deep into the psyche of Pete Ross, but you can assume that he would be more loyal to his old and best friend than risking his immediate appearance on the Wall of Weird. Despite several shipper's Clark/Chloe romance/revelation fics, I still refuse to believe that Chloe's journalistic instincts would fail her at the discovery of Kansas' own ET. But that's just me. Webgirl, I'd love to drag that plot in somehow.  
  
As for everyone else, thanks for reading! My mind is still blown by the fact that people want to read what comes from my demented mind. No need to discourage you now with lengthy, pointless author's notes!]  
  
  
  
4. Found  
  
:Creek: opens the cellar doors, oblivious to the secrets hidden behind them.  
  
The raindrops the size of ping pong balls drenched the old issue of the Torch that was Pete's only protection. Chloe was going to kill him, but it was old, and the only thing Clark had in the barn.  
  
Pete set the paper down to pull open the rusted storm cellar doors. It was a good two minutes before the lock budged, and another three yanking at the hinges. [Clark must be the only one who comes here. He's the only one who can get in!]  
  
He creeped down the stairs, now not so confident that he was alone. It was something he couldn't explain, but there was an odd presence in the room. Pete had been around a lot of the supernatural since the meteor shower, but this was something else. Something out there.  
  
The rain's noisy pitter-patter was the only thing that made Pete feel safe. But, as he watched the dirty window of the underground room become covered in water, that would not be for long. Unless he wanted to flood the Kent's cellar, he was stuck. Damn.  
  
Realizing that he would be there until the rain stopped, he looked around for that thing--the answer he came looking for. Pete leaned against the workbench and observed his surroundings. Loads of labeled cardboard boxes seemed to be the norm with storm cellars, and the Kents' didn't look any different. Pete really only half-expected it to be, but only because they gave him reason to think so.  
  
He inspected a partially eaten hot dog lying in the saw dust. When it looked clean (no glowing green bits), Pete took a bite and saved the rest for later, in case he was stranded.  
  
It was funny: ever since Clark had become some sort of superhero to the town, Pete hadn't really been scared for his safety. And since he had discovered Clark's abilities, it seemed more and more likely that his friend would always come to the rescue, some way or another. He didn't like to take it for granted, but Clark's overwhelming sense of blame for everything, from Chloe's fall from a third-story window to the death of Lana's parents, had come in handy more than once. The boy had managed to save every one of the 45,000 people in the town, all at least once.  
  
Pete chuckled. It really amazed him that nobody had actually put two and two together about the Kent boy. And remember, this includes Chloe, intrepid reporter and discoverer of most of Smallville's meteor mutants from the past six months, and Lex Luthor, boy billionaire with some of the best resources and connections in the world.  
  
[Wow. Being alone for a good half hour really gives you time to ponder. Better start looking around.] Pete didn't want to speak out loud, even though he had been moving freely about the storm cellar for a good amount of time. He was starting to get that weird creepy feeling again.  
  
As he paroozed to various boxes, Pete became alarmed at how normal the Kents looked from the outside. Hell, for years he had bought that very facade. The stubborn farmer husband; the warm, giving housewife; the all- American farmboy, complete with purely plaid wardrobe. Mostly, it was true; Jonathon, Martha and Clark were the kindest, most trusting and trusted people he had ever met. Who woulda thunk the had such enormous skeletons in their closet?  
  
And they were about to get bigger.  
  
Something that was, well, off caught Pete's attention. His eyes were ripped from the inconspicuous labels on the boxes as he focused on the tarp- covered mound shoved into the corner. And judging by the scuff marks on the floor leading to it, Clark hadn't put it there. Super-boy surely would have been able to pick it up, and Pete knew Jonathon sought his son's help with the heavy work as much as possible. It was definitely worth an investigation.  
  
Pete tip-toed over to the thing, feeling like an idiot, but affirming his mode of transportation at the same time. He carefully tried to pick apart the tight knot that was wrapped around the black plastic, but shrugged, figuring that if Clark tied it, there was no use. But Jonathon was an idiot for leaving this big ol' secret in the same room with all of his sharp farming tools.  
  
Once it was unwrapped, it wasn't hard to peel the tarp off the mound. Pete was expecting some sort of implement that a farmer might use, or even a tank of green fluid for Clark, but he was definitely taken by surprise.  
  
He couldn't define it, or the vibe he got from it, but it seemed like some sort of craft. It was polished and silver, or something like it. It could be steel or lead, but it would have rusted under all that tarp in the storm cellar. As Pete knocked on it, and experienced a pain in his knuckles, he realized it was something different. Something... alien.  
  
The word was fed through his brain, though he didn't remember thinking it up. The craft seemed to be talking to him, and Pete didn't like it. As he rubbed the fist that had touched it, he figured out why his hurt was so familiar. It wasn't the craft. It was Clark.  
  
Pete Ross had been Clark Kent's best friend since kindergarten. It would have been longer, since the meteor shower when Clark was adopted, but the Kents' hadn't enrolled him in pre-school. Still, there was many a time when Pete had playfully punched Clark on the arm. It could have been over a joke, or over Lana, or to persuade him to do something. Only since Pete's discovery did he realize it always hurt because of those weird powers Clark had. It was the invulnerable thing that helped him against Brett and, Pete guessed, everybody else he'd dealt with lately.  
  
The same hurt he got from the ship. [The ship. The meteor shower. The pain.] "Hell no..."  
  
For a second, an outlandish idea popped into Pete's head. Clark was adopted around the time of the meteor shower, when they were three. A three year old could fit into that little... thing, which was definitely out of this world. Literally. Which meant...  
  
[No. My best friend is not an alien. Clark is not an alien. No fucking way.]  
  
:Thump: Pete whipped around, and saw the doors of the storm cellar rattle at the hinges. His heart stopped as he heard Clark's voice. 


	5. Run-in

[A/N: As of now, I'm up to 28 reviews. I have to say, I'm truly honored. Ally (ScoobyGal55) continues to spoil me and then some, and I'd love to read your version of the story, or whatever you post! Also, to LaCasta: your praise means a whole lot to me. I've been loving your fics since forever! I got a lot of stuff congratulating me for writing a Pete fic as well. Pete lovers unite!  
  
I'm trying to satisfy everyone with this chapter. I'm going try to proceed with Webgirl's plot suggestion (see chapter 4 author's notes), but I'm also trying to please anya in the sense that Clark shouldn't walk in on Pete. So I'm trying. Any further desires from you guys (as far as the story goes, heh heh), please put in your reviews. I'd love to know what you want, so I can make this story the best it can be.  
  
There are some sharp switches in POV in this chapter, plus a sort of confusing mini-flashback. I also borrow some terms and wordage from other fics I read. The ones I can remember are "Moving On" by MitchPell and "World's Finest" by someone who goes by ibenlaw on KryptonSite (the latter's from the last chapter), so if you recognize it, don't yell. Bear with me here. It's hard to put what I want it to say into my own actual words.  
  
Please review! Even if you just skimmed it and vowed never to read it again, I still want to know everyone that's clicking on my little link!]  
  
5. Run-in  
  
:Pop: opens the entrance to explanation.  
  
Clark wiped invisible dirt from his hands as he backed away from the crime scene. Brett hadn't been too hard to deal with, he reasoned. Clark still felt bad for putting the poor kid in the hospital, but he knew it was for the best. All of these similar situations were really toughening him up.  
  
A minute or so later, he was back on the Kent farm, and ready for a late- night movie fest as he waited out the storm and the arrival of his parents simultaneously. Having the house to himself definitely had it's perks.  
  
Suddenly, a wave of pain ripped through his temples. Clark cursed out loud, then braced for it to pass.  
  
He had been getting inadvertent flashes of x-ray vision about twice a week now since the power had manifested two months ago. It happened usually at night, so it didn't interfere with school, but it still hurt. His mother had attempted to give him advice.  
  
"Ride it out, like a normal headache," she had told him carelessly, as inscribed in the Women's Book of Motherhood.  
  
"Um, Mom? Me? Normal headache? How the hell am I supposed to make that comparison??" Clark usually wasn't so tart with his parents, or anyone for that matter, but pain was a relatively new thing for him, and he wasn't dealing with it too well.  
  
"Well, you're not getting any Advil, young man. I'm sure it'll stop eventually." Clark bit back a sarcastic comment about her past experience with x-ray vision. This was not the best time.  
  
The flashes had been slowly decreasing, and this was Clark's first in five days. His eyes grew worn from wincing, so he slowly opened them and looked around. The rain had began to pour and dotted his eyelashes. The house seemed to be empty, the cows were resting in their stalls, and a skeleton ambled around the storm cellar.  
  
[Skeleton?!]  
  
Clark raced to the cellar doors and had to stop himself from prying them open with all his strength.  
  
"Who is that?" he hissed, half-way angry.  
  
Pete froze. Clark was early. The ship was uncovered. His friend was an alien. It was not the best of times.  
  
Clark shook off the x-ray and stepped cautiously down the steps. The last time this happened, Ryan had found the intergalactic pod. Clark sincerely hoped that whoever this was hadn't made the same discovery.  
  
Pete was stuck. He didn't know what to do. So he ran.  
  
Clark felt a rain-drenched body push past him, and he turned to see Pete barreling out of the storm cellar as fast as humanly possible. He furrowed his brow and lunged forward to follow him, but stopped himself first. He wanted to reaffirm what had scared his friend so.  
  
The alien proceeded down into the underground room and stopped short when he saw the ship, gleaming and revealed in the corner of the room. His heart sank. This wasn't good.  
  
Clark reemerged to see Pete still racing down the driveway, waving his arms in the air. It would have been hilarious, under different circumstances.  
  
For some reason, Clark let Pete run. He felt that Pete may need some time with this new information, and he'll catch up later. It's not like that would be a problem.  
  
Meanwhile, Pete was in hysterics. His friend was an alien. That friend probably figured out that he knew all this. This friend also had superpowers. He would, no doubt, be out to get him in no time, making sure that he would never tell anyone, mob-style.  
  
Suddenly, he stopped. What was he thinking? This was Clark we're talking about. The most mild-mannered kid he knew. Why the hell would he hurt him? It's not like he was homicidal like Brett. He just had certain knowledge. Right?  
  
In any case, Pete knew just where to go for this kind of thing. It's not like he had a shrink (though he may need one, after this), and this was not the best topic for a conversation with the 'rents.  
  
No, Pete was off to Chloe's. 


	6. Fill-in

[A/N: Before I begin, I have to say that this chapter was like therapy for me. I crammed in all the little rants that bother me about the show. It only makes sense that Pete is the genius who brings this to everyone's (OK, just to Chloe's) attention. It's really great. Revel in my greatness.  
  
Also, I wrote this really fast, fueled by my friend's little thingy, so excuse any spelling mistakes or length problems or plot holes, etc. I'm really, really tired.  
  
Thanks for more reviews. I'm on to two pages now. Wow! I have a hit on my hands!  
  
I need more suggestions, because I have no idea whatsoever as to what to do next. Y'all know the outcome of the cliffhanger on this chapter (which is really lame, 'cause I couldn't think of anything), or at least you can guess by the end, after you read it, of course. But what next? There's no way I'll do it without you. If you don't, my chapters will become few and far between. And I don't want that to happen, and neither do you. Right? Right.  
  
I'll go now. I hear SNL in the other room. Yup, it's late. I have to be somewhere in 12 hours.]  
  
  
  
6. Fill-in  
  
Pete halted as soon as he reached the Sullivan's doorstep. He had been running through the pouring rain for a good fifteen minutes, but he still smoothed his drenched jersey and wiped some of the water from his face. Only then did he ring the bell.  
  
Gabe Sullivan answered the door, and Pete heard Chloe cackling at some movie on the TV in the den. Her father calmed himself from obvious laughter and greeted Pete cheerfully.  
  
"Why, Pete, you're soaked to the bone! Where's the fire, and why didn't you take the truck?"  
  
Pete mentally kicked himself. He had left his truck at the Kent Farm. He rushed to mask his worry.  
  
"Well, Mr. Sullivan, I'm here to see Chloe. It's kind of urgent."  
  
"Of course, son. Please, come out of the rain!" He called for his daughter, and Chloe obediently bounced to the door. Pete stepped into the house, took a moment to savor the warmth, and shook himself off like a wet dog.  
  
Chloe giggled. "C'mon, Fido. We're watching 'Young Frankenstein'!"  
  
Pete glanced at the two, the quickly said, "No, no. I need to talk to you now. Alone."  
  
"Oh. Well, okay then. Dad, if you'll excuse us then," Chloe motioned to her father and he moved aside politely. Pete took Chloe by the hand and eagerly pulled her up the steps to her room. Chloe followed curiously.  
  
As soon as they entered Chloe's abode, Pete shut the door plopped down on the fluffy bed. Not playing football all season had definitely had an effect on his endurance.  
  
"So, what's the emergency? Another meteor mutant wreaking havoc on our fair city?"  
  
Pete shook his head vigorously, then reconsidered. "Kinda-sorta. There's good news and bad news. The good news is that Brett's taken care of."  
  
Chloe blinked. "And the bad?"  
  
Pete took a deep breath. "Clark has superpowers like super-speed and super- strength and I think he might have x-ray vision and he can't be hurt like he can stick his arm in a wood chipper and I was locked in his storm cellar because of the flood and I found-" He panted for a few seconds. "-his spaceship, Chloe. I think Clark's an alien."  
  
Chloe looked into her friend's eyes for any sign that he was kidding, but they still held a deadpan expression. She shook her head, and burst out laughing.  
  
"So, let me get this straight," she said between guffaws. "Clark's got superhuman powers, and he's actually a little green man from Mars?"  
  
"I didn't say he was a Martian. Just an alien."  
  
At that, Chloe spurt out a new series of hysterics. "You got me there for a second, Pete, you really did." She wiped a tear out of her eye as she continued to crack up.  
  
Pete couldn't take it anymore. He pounced on Chloe and wrestled her to the ground. She lay silent and stunned.  
  
"I am NOT KIDDING!" Pete yelled, then lowered his voice in case Mr. Sullivan could hear. "Did you ever wonder how he saved everyone so easily? And without a scratch on him, either! You just over-looked it because he's saved you- what- 4 times now? The boy has secrets, we all know that. Just nobody wants to admit that they're this big! Sweet, innocent Clark Kent is really ET in disguise!! It's amazing that someone as perceptive and nosy as you would just ignore the fact that he could be doing things no one should be able to do! If you can just rightfully assume that just because, oh, Sasha got stung by a bunch of meteor bees two years ago that she suddenly gained the ability to control them and is terrorizing the election, why is it so hard to believe there's a superhero in our midst??"  
  
Pete stood hastily, realizing that he had been ranting and releasing the anger that had been boiling inside him for a month now. He dusted himself off, then gave Chloe a hand off the floor. "Pete, I-" Chloe began, then stopped and started again. "I'm sorry. I should have believed you. You and Clark listen to all the tall tales I feed you just because around here, they happen to be true. And when you turn around and give me the story of a lifetime, I disbelieve you completely. I'm really sorry." At that, Chloe broke down and threw herself into Pete's arms. They stood like that for a minute or two, with Chloe sobbing into Pete's shoulder and Pete comforting her by rubbing her back. Suddenly, Chloe broke the embrace.  
  
"So lets back track a minute there. You said Clark was a superhero?"  
  
Pete smiled. Sometimes it amused him how Chloe was never swayed off track.  
  
"That's right. He's a hero, but we knew that already. The new development is that he's..." Pete paused and searched for the right word. "Well, super. That's right. Super."  
  
"What was it I called Eric? Super-boy?"  
  
"That's right." Pete cracked his knuckles, a sign that he was in deep thought, then turned back to Chloe. "Come to think of it, that's exactly right. Eric had powers just like Clark, and they even look the same in action. I bet he had something to do with that. A switch-off or something."  
  
"Right..... ALIEN??????" Chloe jumped up in realization of what Pete had told her a full five minutes before. "There is absolutely no way that Clark- MY Clark- is an alien. Nope. None." Chloe shook her head, as if to reinstate the fact.  
  
"There is one way that his ship could have come in undetected. A time not too long ago when the town was in utter chaos, and everyone was completely distracted."  
  
Their eyes locked in revelation. In unison, they said, "The meteor shower."  
  
The two sat in eerie silence for some time, simply basking in the fact that their best friend was an alien who was capable of things they had only dreamed about. The only sound was the television blaring a floor below, and Gabe's hearty laughter. Neither Pete nor Chloe broke their gaze.  
  
Until they both heard the revs of a truck sputter and cease. And then the doorbell rang. 


	7. Add-in

[A/N: I'm being creative this time and writing the author's notes before I finish the chapter. Actually, I'm only 4 short paragraphs into it. My goal is to finish this before the end of Memorial Day weekend. So here goes.  
  
I was all prepared with the storyline for this one. Well, that's a lie. I knew vaguely what was going to happen, and who was going to be at the door. But that would mean, as Teri pointed out, that the story's ending soon. I sure don't want that to happen, and neither do a lot of you! So, as I decided last night at about midnight, it was time for a plot twist. And I got the perfect one. It'll bring another character or two into this (I originally wanted to avoid using everyone except Clark and Pete, so this is a development), because it's a link to Lex. Well, I can't guarantee an appearance from our favorite bald boy billionaire, but I'm working on it. Kinda. And no, it's not Lex at the door. I'm not sure he fits into this story. Be patient!  
  
Lastly, before I continue writing what you are about to read: I'm upsetting the continuity a bit here. Disregard "Tempest" and all plot developments from it. There is no dance, as it was when I started writing this months ago. Clark and Chloe are not an item; actually I'm avoiding romance at all costs. It gets in the way of this plot, but Chloe does still have her crush on Clark. That kind of affects her reactions here, I think. But, and this is important: "Obscura" is not to be completely ignored. Nixon DID see Clark take the bullet (as it were) for Lana, but he doesn't yet know about the ship. He's simply hot on the trail.  
  
I love my reviews, and my reviewers! More, please!! And Rocketgirl, honey, It was great seeing you this weekend with DJBlurr!!! ::wink::]  
  
7. Chapter 7 (title???)  
  
At the sound of the doorbell, Pete and Chloe's eyes locked. Chloe was sure it was the government, come to interrogate them. Pete was sure it was Clark, come to make sure they didn't tell anybody about him. They both thought the same thing: [I'm too young to die!]  
  
The teens listened intently as Gabe got the door, and unconsciously grabbed each other's hands. A voice that neither of them recognized greeted them.  
  
"Hello, Mr. Sullivan. My name is Roger Nixon and I'm from the Metropolis Inquisitor. Is your lovely daughter at home?"  
  
Chloe stood up slowly, and Pete followed her lead. She smoothed her hair and wiped some stray tears off her face, and became ready to bounce down the stairs in her normal fashion. Pete followed her hesitantly. He didn't want to talk to a reporter now. He felt way too vulnerable; that he might blab out the secret at any moment.  
  
"Mr. Nixon, hi. I'm Chloe Sullivan. Now, what brings a big city reporter such as yourself out to Mayberry?"  
  
Pete, who was standing tentatively behind his friend, watched the elder reporter fumble ever so slightly. He obviously wasn't accustomed to the Snark of Chloe.  
  
"Actually, a couple of things," he continued smoothly. "One of them was your fantastic dedication to journalism and stories that may be ignored by more conventional writers."  
  
Chloe immediately understood. "You-you like my meteor theories?"  
  
"Precisely, Miss Sullivan. Maybe we can discuss the odd events of your little hamlet (to quote one of your stirring articles) over a cup of coffee?"  
  
"Of course, Mr. Nixon. You, Pete, and I are off to the Talon then?"  
  
Nixon's face fell at the mention of the coffee shop. "But isn't that the place that Luthor owns?"  
  
Pete spoke up for the first time. "Well, yes. It's a joint endeavor with a friend of ours. Trust me, I wouldn't go if it was a LuthorCorp operation."  
  
"Nevertheless, I think it's better to stay somewhere private. There are some things that should stay between the two-" he glanced at Pete with mild disgust, "-three of us." Pete smiled proudly. Nixon knew that Pete wouldn't be leaving.  
  
"I'll put a nice, big pot of joe on then," Gabe smiled, oblivious to the tension between the threesome. "Come in, why don't you?"  
  
Nixon followed Chloe to the living room, with Pete close on his heels. She ejected the movie tape and handed it to her father. "Go watch the rest of this upstairs," she instructed, and her father obeyed. He knew that Chloe was intent on her theories, and would not be interrupted be slapstick comedy.  
  
"Now, Mr. Nixon, why be so secretive? It's not like the rest of the town has been ignoring the pyrokinetic coaches and human queen bees running amok."  
  
"On the contrary, Miss Sullivan," Nixon began to protest. "I believe that there are some things, bigger than the occasional homicidal shape-shifter, that are being covered up here, and I have spoken to a man that believes the same."  
  
Pete stifled a laugh at how Chloe sat up straighter than a ruler. "R- really? Like what?"  
  
Nixon contemplated which of his... observations of the town he should bring up first. He had seen this boy and his little girlfriend with the Kent boy, at the Talon as he looked for clues. Though they seemed to be numb to the weirdness surrounding the town, they might be sensitive if any of it involved a good friend of theirs. They had obviously been blind until now. Plus, Nixon had read some of the Sullivan girl's work as he had said, and she was overly immersed in anything related to the meteor shower. Yes, that's what he would bring up. First, anyway.  
  
"I encountered a mysterious man some time ago, a crop duster. Or he was, until October, 1989."  
  
At this, Chloe blinked hard a couple of times. "The meteor shower. What happened?"  
  
"As it were, Mr. Cole had been branded a lunatic by the general populous and driven out of business. You see, he seemed to have spotted-"  
  
"A spaceship. Yeah, we know. Eddie Cole is a raving madman. Not that Chloe here doesn't completely shut him out." Pete couldn't resist jumping into the conversation at that point. Eddie Cole, ex-crop duster, was known around Smallville for his crazy, "X-Files"-esque theories that Chloe had been known to attempt to prove.  
  
"Well, Mr.-"  
  
"Ross," Pete inserted.  
  
"Mr. Ross, then. I believe that I have a lead that may satisfy Miss Sullivan's nose for the news. If, of course, you want to know."  
  
Chloe bounced up and down, those horrid lattes finally catching up with her. Unable to contain her excitement at such a discovery, she couldn't help but squeal out, "Duh! I'm an anxious, caffeine-ridden teen reporter who's been watching a Mel Brooks movie late at night and has her pathetic, platonic life dedicated to a freak accident from a dozen years ago and her freakishly tall, gorgeous friend! Did you think I didn't want to know the dirt you have on the local crackpot that I've been praying was correct for almost all of my conscious life? Or have you been smoking something incredibly illegal? Which I'm sure you can get somewhere around here, by the way, considering there's no obviously sex problem and that our small farming town must abide by the rules of stereotypical America!"  
  
Pete and Nixon made unsteady eye contact, and simultaneously edged back from the hyper teen. The younger was the first to recover from the initial shock of the outburst.  
  
"Okay, no more sugar for you tonight, young lady." Chloe smirked.  
  
"I'm sorry, Miss Sullivan, if this is a bad time, I'll be leaving. Except, um, yeah."  
  
"NO! I mean, no, please don't leave. That whole rant was the long way to say 'Please tell me, please!' So, you said you had some dirt?"  
  
Nixon smoothed his shirt nervously and leaned forward. "Well, I'm not sure how to say this, but I've been watching a friend of yours. Clark Kent, I believe. And, well, I've found some interesting things, and I have a theory."  
  
"Sorry to burst your bubble yet again, Mr. Nixon, but we know that as well. See-" Pete was interrupted by a sharp nudge in the ribs by the feisty blonde next to him.  
  
"Hush up boy. We don't know what he knows." She squinted comically at the man across from her, and Pete stifled a smirk.  
  
"Alright then, Mr. Nixon, if that IS your real name," he paused to shoot Nixon a smile to show that he was joking, "you tell us what you know."  
  
"I can't say I know nearly the entire story," the reporter admitted. "But I have seen him take several bullets as if he were wearing a bullet-proof vest and run as if he were on fast-forward, not to mention tossing a man as if he were weightless with seemingly no effort."  
  
Pete waggled his eyebrows at Chloe to prove that he wasn't delusional. She conceded.  
  
"Enough with the metaphors. What are you going to do with your knowledge of our close friend?"  
  
"Well, I'm sure he could do mankind a great benefit. His invulnerability can possibly be duplicated to prevent fatal diseases and such, and his abilities are crucial to the- how could you put it- never-ending battle for justice."  
  
Pete cringed. He remembered his concerns when he had first discovered Clark's abilities. No matter how much Clark may want to hurt him for telling Chloe, he still didn't want to see his friend in such a dire and inhumane situation. There was only one way to save him: strike a deal.  
  
"Does this knowledge mean a lot to you, Mr. Nixon?" said Pete, suddenly all business.  
  
"Yes sir, Mr. Ross. Myself, and the human race as we know it."  
  
"Well, it can't be both. You're going to have to choose." Chloe shot him a questioning look, and he clarified.  
  
"Chloe and I, we know more things about Clark than he probably knows about himself." Pete knew he was probably exaggerating, but he wanted his proposition to be affective. It needed to be an offer that Nixon couldn't refuse. "We can show you the real secret behind Clark Kent and you keep it to yourself, or you can write all about the bullet-proof boy raised in the town where heat-sucking jocks are the norm."  
  
"Yeah, and if you don't obey, we'll sick Clark on ya!" interjected Chloe.  
  
Pete placed a calming hand on Chloe's shoulder. "No, you dingbat. We'll go to Luthor."  
  
"L-luthor?" Nixon repeated. How did this kid know his connections?  
  
Pete noticed Nixon's reaction, but misinterpreted it. "Yeah, we know he has ways of dealing with things." He tried to crack his knuckles menacingly, but failed horribly. Chloe gave into temptation and cracked up again. Pete rolled his eyes. Chloe got her father and started the movie again. They were going to wait out the storm, and then they were headed back to the Kent's, Nixon in toe. 


End file.
